


Belonging With You

by panda_shi



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cheesy, Falling In Love, M/M, Past Hatake Kakashi/Yamato | Tenzou - Freeform, Pining, Secret Identity Fail, Silly, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23145361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panda_shi/pseuds/panda_shi
Summary: Iruka is secretly an erotica writer; he writes out past experiences, fantasies and desires. No one was meant to find out. Until he writes his fourth book. About his neighbor. That he really likes.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Yamato | Tenzou, Umino Iruka & Yamato | Tenzou, Umino Iruka/Yamato | Tenzou
Comments: 9
Kudos: 147





	Belonging With You

**Author's Note:**

> I am my own beta. Might have missed shit.

It was no secret that Iruka love to read. And by extension, it should not have been a surprise to anyone that he loved to write as well. He had always been imaginative after all, what with the pranks and jokes and whatnot, so storytelling had been a piece of cake. It had been raw talent, uncut rough diamond that only needed a little polishing. The more Iruka had read back then, the better and stronger he had become with his writing.

And all it took back then had been one writing competition.

Then a dare. 

A good year and a half later when Iruka's wages hit an all time low, he had a book deal and his stories were hitting the shelves nationwide. Three months later, his little book with a bright blue cover and a printed restricted sign on the back had been the new attraction in every bookstore worldwide. Savage Secrets was selling like iced-popsicles on a sweltering summer’s day.

Never underestimate people’s love and desire for cheesy, romantic storylines.

Better yet, when broke, never underestimate Konoha’s perverted population.

At twenty-seven, Iruka is the nation’s favourite literotica author; he was published under the name Sui Teira.

At twenty-seven, he had an income that can put Konoha’s most active field ANBU, Hunter or Jounin to shame. 

It was shocking. 

He loved it. He wasn’t a fan of milking Fire’s citizens off their money through literotica, but every time he stepped into his nicer, airier, one bedroom apartment with a glorious porcelain tub (even though he was yet to meet any of his neighbours, knew no one in his floor, what with the complex being rather cold and not at all community friendly like Iruka’s old apartment complex), he thought, _it’s fine~_

*

So Iruka kept writing.

Savage Betrayal, at the age of twenty-eight, was a bigger success.

Iruka drew inspiration for the plot and betrayal from his own experience; nothing said like a bitter, rough and unforgettable fuck you than your best friend betraying the village and putting a giant shuriken to your back. 

Fire’s book critics called it sensational, deep, heart wrenching.

Wind’s book critics called it raw, painful, will bring tears to your eyes.

Lightning referred to Sui Teira as a genius, skilled, true talent.

Iruka snorted when he read the articles he got in the mail from his publisher. It better bring tears to his reader’s eyes. 

That entire betrayal remained a sore point to this day. It cut deeper than Iruka would dare admit out loud.

In a way, writing about it in the shape of fictional characters was almost cathartic (he and Mizuki were never lovers like the characters in the book). Still. A step forward towards possibly forgiveness, if anything. 

The cheque he got certainly made him happy, at least.

*

The porn was easy to write.

All Iruka had to do was reach down into his own desires and sexual experiences, think about what he wanted, or would maybe want to try and then exaggerate it greatly. 

He knew how to please a woman.

He knew how to please a man.

Writing erotica and making it sound _beautiful_ and _hot_ wasn’t difficult. Writing erotica and making sure it affected his readers was a bit of a challenge but not impossible.

So if the scene didn’t make Iruka want to touch himself or go for a quickie ride with one of his dildos, then it wasn’t going to work on his audience. 

Besides, Iruka enjoyed sex as much as the next person. He was a healthy man who was still in his prime. He knew what he wanted, how he wanted it and nine times out of ten, his partners agreed to his… style.

Enthusiastically, even.

Really, Iruka wished he had been more open about writing erotica all those years ago. If he knew, adopting Naruto would not have been a problem.

*

Iruka knew he was good when he started seeing the infamous Hatake Kakashi, lord Rokudaime, walking around with the dark blue cover of Savage Betrayal.

Within that year, he released Savage Desires, a book that documented his desires of being with the Rokudaime. All fictional of course but one can’t deny the aloof, strong, smug, mysterious royal warrior and his torrid romance with the quiet, shy and lowly scholar in training.

The day Iruka saw the book in Kakashi’s hands, how immersed the Hokage was with it while walking in public with a bag of groceries, so lost in his reading that he _tripped_ on a pebble, was the day Iruka ducked into an alley and laughed himself to the point of wheezing.

One of Konoha’s resident perverts was into Iruka’s books.

If that wasn’t a boost to the ego, then Iruka didn’t know what was.

*

Iruka was wrong.

The biggest stroke to his ego was the movie deal on Savage Betrayal.

Iruka spent an hour laughing at the irony of it all and felt no shame profiteering over Mizuki’s betrayal this way (if Mizuki was rolling in grave -- well, then _good)_. He went as far as making a note to his editor in requesting that the director make Mizuki’s character have green eyes as opposed to brown like his book.

When the movie was released, Iruka got premier passes to the movie that he oh so casually offers to the mission room staff, saying he was not a fan of such a thing and had won it through his readers club subscription.

People fought over it.

In the end, it was one Yamato-taichou and several rounds of janken that got those two premier tickets.

It was rather cute, how Yamato-taichou had grinned like an excited fanboy, thanked Iruka politely with a bit of a flush on his cheeks, a touch bashful even, as he ducked his gaze but failed to suppress his wide, smile. His teeth was nice, incisors rather sharp, visible under the stretch of lips.

Yamato-taichou was quite cute, wasn’t he?

“Enjoy the movie, Yamato-san,” Iruka smiled, glad to share what little blessings he could.

“Thanks, Iruka-san! You sure you don’t want to go see it? I mean, the book was great and they do have an all star cast,” Yamato said, as he tucked the tickets away safely into his utility pouch.

“I’ll pass; I’m not a big fan of the books, to be honest,” Iruka murmurs. “Too… _wild.”_

Yamato simply smiled. “Not all of it. And that’s a damn shame.”

Iruka looked up at that and is met with a polite, schooled, almost measured experience. “Well, then, maybe you can tell me about it sometime. Any plans on who you want to go with?”

“Maybe Kakashi-senpai, I guess,” Yamato shrugged. “He’s a big fan too.”

It took all of Iruka’s shinobi training to not outright laugh at that.

*

The movie made thousands in its first week. 

By its second week, Iruka was shocked by the zeroes.

The cheque that he received three months later was so large that Iruka donates half of it anonymously to the orphanage. 

He was starting to have a problem with his income. He already lived above his pay grade in such a nice apartment complex. He didn’t dare do anything more, because the whole erotica-writer gig was supposed to remain a secret.

*

It almost wasn’t.

Wasn’t in the sense that, months later, Iruka ran into his neighbour for the first time by the mailbox and his secret almost slipped.

Yamato stood there, as he emptied his overstuffed mailbox. Iruka blinked in surprise at the sight of him, dressed down in dark pants and a light t-shirt, a bag of imported coffee beans tucked under his arm. With the happuri nowhere in sight, Tenzou looked different, younger, less serious, quite handsome.

Not that he wasn’t handsome with the happuri on.

Still. 

Iruka blinked himself out of the staring frenzy before he opened his mouth.

“Yamato-san?” Iruka said, unable to not sound shocked.

“Oh! Iruka-san!” Yamato responded, pausing in his shuffle of envelopes. The surprised look melted to something more neutral. “You live here?”

“Yes, fourth floor,” Iruka smiled, moving to unlock his own mailbox, as he took out the small stash of envelopes, his keys jingling the entire time.

“Oh! Well, then, small world. I’m the guy across your door.”

“Small world, indeed,” Iruka chuckled. “How was the movie?”

“Ah. Savage Betrayal was —“

“Amazing.” 

Iruka turned to blink at the Rokudaime, standing there with a bag of take out from the izakaya down the street. 

“Hokage-sama,” Iruka greeted, dipping his head politely.

“I heard he got the tickets from you,” Kakashi drawled, clapping a hand over Yamato’s shoulder.

“More like he won it over several janken matches,” Iruka corrected. “I’m glad to hear that the tickets were received well, then.”

Yamato shut his mailbox and turned to Iruka. “We appreciate it.”

Iruka looked at them both and shrugged; he didn't want to get in the middle of their evening. It was obvious that they were close. Which was too bad. Iruka may have written an entire book about getting fucked and fucking the Rokudaime, disguised in a cheesy, romantic plot but he wasn’t interested in Kakashi. He didn’t know him even if he had an attractive aura about him. Iruka wasn’t one to strive for someone with such rank, anyway.

Yamato though, he wouldn’t mind.

He was nice to look at. Thick in all the right places.

Well. Iruka wasn’t going to get in between anyone and the Rokudaime. Of all people.

“Anytime. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

*

The next morning was when the almost slipped-secret happened, because just as Iruka was refilling his cup with more coffee, there was a knock on the door.

Opening it revealed Yamato, dressed down in wash worn cotton t-shirt and sweatpants, feet encased in rubber slippers, palms on Iruka’s door frame and holding up an envelope in between his fingers.

“Good morning,” Yamato greeted.

“Good morning, Yamato-san,” Iruka responded, unable to keep his gaze that raked down the length of Yamato’s height, width and — huh. Well. There was a possible porn plot for a book. Have the love interest box the protagonist the same way Yamato currently was. With Iruka’s door. 

“I think this is yours,” Yamato held out the envelope.

Sure enough, the envelope had Iruka’s name and Taito’s publishing logo on it. Iruka casually plucked it from between Yamato’s fingers and smiled broadly. “I was expecting that!” 

“Side work?”

“Part of my reader’s digest. Maybe I won another competition!” Iruka laughed, hoping it did not come off as so obviously fake. Yamato was looking at him with a neutral expression as he pushed himself off his casual boxed-in lean from Iruka’s door frame. Iruka knew immediately what he needed to do in this scenario. It was a staple in every, classy cheesy trope there is. He had to. All in the name of research. “I just made coffee. Would you like a cup?”

“That does smell quite good,” Yamato answered but looked over his shoulder and sure enough Iruka saw the second pair of boots on Yamato’s genkan. Ah. The Hokage was still in the building. 

Iruka rolled his eyes, stepped back and poured two mugs of coffee. He handed the cups to Yamato. “They’re good beans.”

“I bet they are,” Yamato smirked, holding up both mugs in thanks. “I’ll bring these back.”

“No rush.” Iruka smiled, as a feeling of mild shame went through him at how much he wished the Hokage wasn’t next door right now. 

Yamato’s smile, boyishly charming in its rather relax and unrestrained tug at his lips, was, if anything, quite hard to forget.

That night, Iruka began drafting his next book. This time, it was going to be about a love triangle with the main protagonist living in the same apartment complex as her love interest, who unfortunately, was already engaged to someone who seemed distant only because they were a super busy business mogul and was hardly around anyway.

Iruka was going to call this Savage Passion.

*

Turned out that the envelope contained another cheque.

More money.

Which was a deciding factor that night when one evening, as Iruka walked by the market, he found a child sitting there by the street on a stool with a carrier, a striped, full, short haired striped tabby plopped with its belly exposed.

“Why are you giving him up?” Iruka asked.

“My baby sister is allergic,” the child said.

“Oh,” Iruka sighed, crouching down and offered a hand up to the carrier's door. Iruka got a tale swoosh for his effort and a short husky meow. “What’s his name?”

“Mango,” the child said. “Do you want him, mister?”

Iruka thought about it for exactly ten seconds.

A minute later, he was walking home with a purring cat in his hand.

*

Iruka was preparing to leave that morning for the academy when Yamato’s door opened and there he stood, looking damp and in his standard issue Jounin dark uniform, dangling two mugs by his index finger.

“Ah! My mugs!” Iruka said, as he grinned toothily.

“Yours mugs,” Tenzou responded, bemused, as he extended his hand and offered the mugs without stepping out of his genkan. “Good coffee. Thank you for sharing. Kakashi-senpai was impressed. Where did you get the beans from?”

“Tea Avenue, at Komiko’s. Ask her to mix equal parts of roast number seven and roast number twelve.” Iruka took the mugs and set it on the small side table by his genkan. 

“I’ll remember that,” Yamato answered, nodding. “Have a good day ahead, Iruka-sensei.”

“You too, Yamato-san.” Iruka responded, just as he catches sight of Kakashi’s boots by Yamato’s genkan.

*

Iruka stayed up all night that night writing the first few chapters of his new book. He wrote the heroine pining for a love she can never have, her love always restrained by the sight of a pair of shoes that belonged to someone that wasn’t her.

It was cheesy, a little funny in some parts. Iruka wrote out every interaction he ever had with Yamato with amplified pining, incredible one sided unresolved sexual tension and so far, three masturbation scenes. He had to resort to using the sexy jutsu at one point for a test run, just to get the feelings and sensation right. He was proud that he wasn’t off by much.

Iruka fell asleep like that, bent over an almost full notebook when Mango started to paw at his head, loud meows no longer ignorable. 

At nine AM that fall morning, Iruka tugged on a pair of decent pants and sweatshirt to head to the store and pick up some cat food because, obviously, he forgot to do so the night before. 

As he opened his door, Mango scurried between his legs and out into the corridor, making a wild dash for the stairwell leaving Iruka, who was barely awake at the point, to crow out a loud and indignant:

“Mango! No!”

Iruka was barefoot by the time he reached the stairs, only to find Mango meowing and purring, pawing gently at Yamato’s forearm, as he cradled him gently in the crook of his arm like he was a small infant. 

“Ah. So you did run away from your owner,” Yamato said, looking up to give Iruka a grin. “Hey, Iruka-san.”

“Yamato-san! Thank you for catching him!” Iruka visibly sagged in relief. It was too early for him to function. “I’m hardly home and he tends to do this whenever I open the door.”

“Want me to keep an eye on him while you run your errand? I don’t mind entertaining him a bit. Maybe work off some of that excess energy?”

“Yamato-san, I don’t want to trouble you and really it’s okay, I’ll just—“

“No trouble.” Yamato climbed up the rest of the stairs and proceeded to gently rub Mango’s neck. “I’ll have coffee ready when you’re back. I owe you.”

“A-Ah…”

Iruka couldn’t say no.

As he walked down the street to the store in the corner, he decided that his main protagonist was going to have a pet. A dog named Coconut. Just so that it wasn’t so obvious.

*

Coffee at Yamato’s was lovely. 

As Yamato prepared two cups of coffee, Iruka stood by the shelf near his living room window, looking through the content. Iruka hoped, when his eyes fell upon the familiar blue covers of his Savage series, that he betrayed none of the giddiness that went through him as Yamato approached him and handed him a cup of coffee.

“You really are a fan, huh?” Iruka murmured, tipping his chin at the three books pressed together at the end of the lower shelf. 

“Sui’s books?” Yamato hummed thoughtfully as he took a sip of his coffee. “I love the plot.”

“You don’t find it cheesy?” Iruka sounded surprised. 

“That is a matter of opinion.” Yamato grumbled, a bit of pink dusting over his cheeks.

It was incredibly cute.

Iruka knew he was fucked in the wake of that cute charm. 

They talked about Mango after that, how Iruka came about adopting him, as Mango proceeded to eat his tuna off a small dish Yamato offered for use.

By the end of it, Iruka was sure he was fan of how Yamato sounded when he talked, how he hummed as he took a sip of coffee, how his eyelashes curled against his cheek when he blinked.

Ah, too bad he was the Hokage’s lover.

Neighbours were all they’ll ever be.

*

They kept bumping into each other more often, mostly for coffee in the morning. One day, Iruka offered Yamato a freshly baked pastry he had picked up; Yamato’s cheeks dusted a very faint (adorable) pink but seemed thankful for the effort.

He certainly looked good taking a bite off a buttery, flaky baked pastry.

Iruka reminded himself to make sure to write, in explicit detail, how Yamato’s character was going to have the lips of the devil. It would be sin itself to gaze upon it.

*

Iruka imagined getting fucked by Yamato.

He imagined that wonderful mouth on him, Yamato’s tongue brushing over his skin, the palm of his hand on his abdomen, his hip. He imagined Yamato grinning, head ducked against Iruka’s neck, the length of his body pressed against Iruka’s, boxing him in, those dark, handsome eyes piercing into Iruka — gods, Iruka thought, dropping his pen down and leaning back as he took his cock in his hands, imaging they were Yamato’s. He imagined his thick arms around him, the brush of his breath against his neck, his cock buried deep in Iruka’s ass.

Iruka’s mouth slacked as he imagined Yamato fucking him, one hand around his cock and the other hand bruising my tight on his hip, as Yamato would forcibly arch Iruka’s hip just so, as he drove deeper into his body.

Iruka came into his palm that way, Yamato’s name tumbling breathlessly past his lips. He sat there, slumped, as he rode out his orgasm staring at the half written sex scene in front of him before he got up to clean himself up.

As he soaped and rinsed his hands, Mango stared at Iruka with his most judging face.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Iruka sighed. Mango meowed and then walked away.

He refused to feel bad about jacking off to his neighbour who clearly had a better prospect.

*

Iruka was but a teacher. No way he was going to match up to a Hokage. 

Kakashi was Yamato’s height, maybe taller by a few centimeters but not by much. He was strong, had a solid reputation, and strength in his hands. He was smart, wise, a master strategist, and probably had a great sense of humor if he had Gai for a best friend. He looked good, all sharp lines, strong back, muscled frame that even his coarse silver hair added to the whole devilishly handsome schtick he had going on for him.

Iruka was -- well. He did not have a famous reputation, high rank or that much strength. Comparatively, that was. He had a pretty common face, dark hair, tanned skin. The few partners he had over the course of the years used to tell him that he was cute, a pretty boy, that his dimples made him charming. 

So he wasn’t butt ass ugly. 

He was relatively nice, fun, Iruka supposed. He was adventurous because he was risking his reputation by writing filthy literotica under a pseudo-name; he was good at it. He wasn’t terrible in bed and he knew how to suck cock and eat pussy. Like, he wasn’t a passive lover -- he tried not to be. 

Still.

He was no Hatake Kakashi.

*

Iruka ended up bickering with his friends, very loudly, by his door, when Izumo and Kotetsu told him that they cannot take Mango for the weekend. 

“Well, can’t you send a clone to feed him or something?” Iruka asked, ready to tear his hair out because he was going to be gone over the weekend with his class on a fieldtrip and Naruto was in Sand for the week. It was already too late in the evening to hunt down someone else.

“Iruka, what part of we’re going on a mission and not stuck at guard duty did you not hear?” Kotetsu sighed.

“What am I gonna do?” Iruka thumped his head against his doorframe, repeatedly. 

“Maybe Genma?” Izumo asked.

“Mission.” Iruka sulked.

“Raidou?” Kotetsued offered.

“Also a mission.” Iruka grumbled and thumped his head a little harder.

“Everything okay there?” 

Let it be said that Iruka’s friend knew him so well that they looked at him funny the moment he, apparently, perked up without realizing. “Ah, Yamato-san! Hello!”

“Hey,” Yamato greeted back, offering a polite smile. 

Iruka should have known the moment Izumo and Kotetsu looked at him, exchanged looks and then oh so casually, attacked.

“Actually, everything is not okay, Yamato-san. You see, normally one of us or Naruto would take care of Iruka’s cat but unfortunately we’re in a bit of a tight spot.” Izumo explained.

“Are you going to be in the village until Saturday night, Yamato-san?” Kotetsu asked. 

“Yes, I will be. You need help with Mango?” Yamato asked.

“You do need help with _Mango_ ,” Kotetsu pointedly said, and Iruka knew that it was coded speak, _why does the guy you obviously are attracted to know your cat’s name?_

“I’m sorry, Yamato-san, I don’t want to trouble you. You just have to fill his bowl. He’s shedding a bit so, I’ll give you the keys--”

“Here,” Izumo grabbed Iruka’s spare key from its perch on his wall and handed it over to Yamato. “Problem and crisis solved. Okay, we better get going. Iwashi is waiting for us at the gate. Thanks for helping out, Yamato-san.”

“Glad to,” Yamato offered, polite the entire time as Izumo and Kotetsu proceeded to exit and ade themselves scarce, leaving Iruka standing there looking rather bamboozled. 

“Ah, can I offer you dinner, Yamato-san? I have oyakudon if that’s… something you enjoy?” Iruka offered, sheepish, tentative, embarrassment painted all over his face.

“I do actually. And would love that, Iruka-san, provided it’s no trouble,” Yamato pleasantly responded.

“No. No trouble at all!”

*

That night, Iruka wrote four more chapters for his book.

It also involved a racy sex scene that took place on the protagonist dining table.

He also jacked off with a buttplug wedged so deep in his ass and his hands rubbing his cock raw, sighing out Yamato’s name pointedly shooing Mango away because he refused to be judged further by his cat.

*

Iruka ended up oversleeping after writing all night and in his hurry, forgot to hide all his notebooks.

He only remembered how he left everything there, on his study, half way through his class’s field trip. 

His panic left him with an upset stomach as he fervently hoped that Yamato would ignore his study and everything else and fuck, shit, why did he not think this through a lot better? Why? Yamato did not look like he blabbed but still

Sui Teira true identity isn’t supposed to be known by anyone!

*

When Iruka came home, he was happy to note that his study remained untouched, his notebooks as they were, and nothing seemed out of order. In his relief, Iruka shoved everything into his drawer, locked in, just as his front door opened Yamato stepped in with a packet of wet cat food in his hand.

“Oh! Welcome back, Iruka-san!”

“Yamato-san!” Iruka greeted, shoving his study chair into its proper slot with his hip as he casually strolled towards the living room, Mango in tow. 

“I just came to feed Mango dinner,” Yamato said, holding up the small packet in his hand before slowly moving towards the clean food dish drying by the sink. 

“I can’t thank you enough for this,” Iruka said, sighing softly as he watched the shift of Yamato’s back muscles through his shirt.

“I don’t mind at all. Next time, if I’m around, just pop on over. Mango was a pleasure to take care of. Ah, I hope you don’t mind, but I made him a little play area by your window over there.” 

Sure enough, Iruka peered behind the sofa and there, by the window, against the corner, is a small multi-leveled play area. Iruka blinked, his lips slacking a bit. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Yamato-san, thank you. You didn’t have to!”

“You know my ability is Wood, right?” Yamato looked over his shoulder, a bit of a smirk lingering around the corners of his lips that left Iruka’s knees as soft as cotton.

“I know,” Iruka murmured, ducking his head.

Boy did he know. 

“So no trouble,” Yamato said, as he bent over and gave Iruka a lovely glimpse of his very firm, very muscled ass, as he set Mango’s plate down by his water dish. When Yamato straightened, he leaned the small of his back against the kitchen sink, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Iruka the most, wet dream inducing visual that would, no doubt, keep the nights to come incredibly warm. “I wanted to.” 

Iruka flushed as he cleared his throat. “Ah, well, know that I’m grateful. As is Mango, I’m sure.” Iruka had to tear his gaze away from him, ducking his face briefly before he opened his mouth. “I’d love to repay you one day for this.”

“Anytime you can sapre another bowl of oyakodon, I'll be happy,” Yamato responded, grinning sheepishly. 

“Really?” Iruka perked up.

“Really,” Yamato answered.

And that was how the bento boxes started.

*

It goes on for months. Everytime Iruka made a meal, he would pack some in a box and knock at the door across from him. Sometimes Yamato answered, other times he didn’t simply because he wasn’t home.

One time, Iruka didn’t see Yamato for six weeks at a time.

When he did, Yamato looked a little haggard, smelled of disinfectant and had bandages peeking out of his uniform sleeve and collar. Iruka offered to bring him dinner that night and was more than happy to give Yamato seconds after watching eat like a starved man.

It must have been a tough mission.

Until one night, as per usual, Iruka came over knocking with Yamato’s usual bento. Except it was Kakashi who opened the door and stared at him like he was interrupting something.

Iruka simply handed the bento box over, dipped his head and walked away. He hoped, more than anything, he didn’t cause trouble between them. 

Iruka didn’t dare knock the next night, or the following night.

By the third night, it was Yamato who came by to return the empty, cleaned bento boxes, rubbing the back of his head and telling him it looked delicious, that Kakashi-senpai ate all of it, unfortunately.

Iruka discovered then, he was a masochist, because now, he was cooking for not just Yamato, but giving bento enough for two.

It was pathetic.

Sad.

Iruka made sure it all went into his book.

*

The book, unfortunately, was getting too long with no ending in sight.

It was not going to end as long as Iruke kept dancing around his attraction with Yamato. Yamato would come by borrowing a few things often -- a cup of sugar, some milk, salt at one point and then, oddly enough, vinegar. Sometimes, he would bring by treats for Mango. Those treats would always be accompanied by either a sweet pastry, a slice of cake, or, one time, ice cream.

“I saw your bowl of candy by your study,” Yamato casually responded when Iruka asked him how did he figured out he had a sweet tooth. “Figured it then.”

It wouldn’t have been so bad, except Iruka’s stomach dropped to the ground as Yamato held his gaze briefly, before he continued to smooth a palm over Mango’s coat.

Well. Fuck.

*

Eventually, Iruka gave the main protagonist of his book a happy ending, where she and her neighbor eventually have sex in the hallway, she got picked, the business owner got dumped and several racy scenes later, they move in together with their corgi dog after a wonderful spring wedding with a picturesque wedding with Sakura season as the backdrop.

Iruka mailed the book and within a month, received a very, excited, happy, enthusiastic response from his publisher.

Two months later, Savage Passions was sold out.

Iruka sighed, as he pulled out the cheque from his publisher, staring at the numbers. 

At least the female rendition of himself in the story got the happy ending. 

*

At some point, Iruka made peace with the reality that neighbours and friends was all he and Yamato will ever be. And while it was not like Iyami and Tohru's love in his book ending, Iruka knew that he shouldn't expect too many things. That what little he got, however brief, was enough.

Yamato's friendship was valuabe too.

He could be happy with that if that was all he could get. It wasn't his place to ask for more, anyway. 

*

Iruka pulled his door open, about to take the trash out when Mango darted out (again) and rushed for the stairwell.

“Damnit, Mango!” Iruka crowed, taking off after him only to come to a stop two flights down, the Hokage holding Mango up by the scruff of his neck, all while reading out of a smal, cyan colored book, Savage Passions printed out in the front in maroon and white. “Hokage-sama.”

“This yours?” Kakashi offered, holding Mango out who only meowed pitifully, eyes narrowed.

“Yes! Thank you! He does this all the time!” Iruka reaches out and curled his arm around Mango, tucking him against his chest as Mango draped over his shoulder, paw on either side. “Is that the new book?” Iruka casually queried, and got a hum in return. “How was it?”

“Hmm, not my favorite, to be honest,” Kakashi shrugged, looking over his book at Iruka. “Savage Desires remains my favorite.” 

Iruka flushed, unable to do anything about it. 

“But I don’t hate this, it’s sweet,” Kakashi shrugged. “Not your worst one.”

“Thanks, I -- “ Iruka responded only to look up with wide eyes as all the blood drains from his head and pools somewhere four floors down.

The smirk on Kakashi’s face could only be described as devilishly smug, as the book clapped shut, and he oh so casually, tapped the spine of the book against the curve of Iruka’s shoulder and said, “Naughty, naughty, Iruka-sensei~ Didn’t peg you to have such... _thoughts_.”

It was lurid, dirty.

Iruka cannot stop himself as he hissed, “Shut up at once!” 

That only ended with Iruka being at the receiving end of Kakashi’s very, very pointed, dark look. “Don’t worry though, your secret is safe with me. Though if you really like him, you should tell him.”

Iruka remained standing there, holding on to his cat as Kakashi ascended the stairs and disappears into Yamato’s apartment, like he owned the place too.

*

Tell him, Kakashi said.

Like how the fuck when Kakashi apparently can come and go as he pleased? Like, why would Iruka get in the middle of that?

Iruka sighed and decided, that okay, it was time to move out. 

Besides, that apartment complex he initially wanted that was right next to the Academy finally had an empty spot, anyway. 

*

One evening, Iruka gets a knock on his door just as he finishes brushing his hair and putting on his comfortable, wash worn yukata. 

Yamato stood there, looming, palms on the door frame, shirtless, sweat pants hanging low on his hips, hair damp, barefoot and what the fuck was going on -- Iruka wasn’t sure where to look. 

He settled for Yamato’s face, his throat dried out.

“This was in my mail again,” Yamato held out an envelope. One that had Taito’s publishing logo on it.

“Our mailman is incompetent, clearly,” Iruka tried to sound apologetic but it was hard when the object of his fantasies was standing half naked in front of him, fatally attractive as ever.

“Well, you know it’s always my pleasure to assist you,” Yamato answered, holding up the envelope towards Iruka.

“Thank you,” Iruka dumbly answered, taking the envelope and shoving aside, somewhere on the flat surface towards his left. 

Yamato stared at him for a long while, before he ducked his head and shook it, a grin dancing across his lips, incisors visible as he stepped a little further into Iruka’s door. He leaned his shoulder on the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “So, I read Sui Teira’s new book. Savage Passions.” 

“Okay?” Iruka blinked.

“Did you read it?”

“I told you I dislike those books.”

“Well, then let me tell you my favorite part.” Yamato pushed himself off the door frame, stepping into Iruka’s space, looking down at him. “Chapter eighteen, Iyami’s love interest, Tohru comes to her, late one night, wet from the rain. She was thinking of leaving the city, move away because she thought her feelings weren't reciprocated.” Iruka is forced to take a step back, as Yamato crowded him further into the genkan and pushed the door shut. “You know what he did? When he stepped into her apartment?” 

Iruka knew.

He fucking knew.

He fantasised it only about a million times.

Hell, he published it.

“What?”

Yamato grabbed Iruka by the back of his head, one arm going around his hip as he _shoved_ Iruka against the door, pinning him firmly against it, their hips flushed against each other, Yamato’s semi hard cock pressing over the soft fabric of Iruka’s thin, yukata. 

“If you’re thinking of leaving, don’t. I want you, I need you,” Yamato whispers, his breath hot against Iruka’s lips, palm coming up to flatten over Iruka’s abdomen, right over the knot of his yukata. “Do you understand? Don’t go.”

Iruka shuddered, as his eyes fell shut, arousal slamming into him as the words in his book is given life by the man he’s been wanting since he found out months ago that they’re neighbors, when Yamato had smiled something a little charming, that sometimes, would take a sharper edge that left him so devilishly handsome.

“But the Hokage, Yamato-san--”

Yamato laughed, pressing their foreheads together. “Tenzou. Call me Tenzou.” 

And Tenzou, gave Iruka no chance to respond, as he ducked and slanted his lips over Iruka’s, pressing Iruka further against the wood, as a warm tongue traced the seams of Iruka’s mouth. Iruka’s breath staggered somewhere in his chest, palms shakily coming up to the sides of Yamato -- Tenzou’s neck, fingernails digging into soft skin because this was happening, this was real. This was not a figment of Iruka’s imagination as his fingers wrapped and stroked his own cock, as his other fingers reached down to finger himself.

This was Yamato -- no, _Tenzou_ , tracing the lines of his mouth, one hand in his hair, caressing the damp length of it, his hard, thick cock brushing against Iruka’s thigh, leaving Iruka’s weak kneed, heady -- fuck.

“Fuck --” Iruka breathed out, as Tenzou grinned and sank his teeth somewhere around the side of Iruka’s neck. 

“That’s the idea, isn’t it?” Yamato murmured, pushing a knee between Iruka’s legs. “Honestly, the entire country knew before I did. I’m a little jealous.”

“The hokage --”

“What of him?” Tenzou asked, pushing Iruka’s yukata off his shoulders, the fabric falling over his shoulders as Tenzou trailed red bite marks all over Iruka’s collar bone.

“Aren’t you--”

“Am I what?” Tenzou looked up, head canted, mouth pulled up to a grin.

“Well, with him?” Iruka growled.

“Jealous?” Tenzou asked, the grin pulling wider.

Fuck.

“What if I am?” Iruka challenged, keeping his head up high. “Didn’t you read the book? Iyami hated Kaori’s guts. Not because she was bad, but because Iyami knew she was no match.”

Tenzou bit his lower lip, chewed on it briefly before he released it to grin, all while stared at Iruka’s face, his eyes dark with what was clearly desire and something just a touch softer. It gleamed as sharp as the edge of a blade, almost possessive, predatory. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

“Tenzou...” Iruka _groaned._ He was getting frustrated because he wasn’t about to become the side-dish. He wasn’t that kind of guy.

“Don’t worry. There’s nothing there,” Tenzou murmured, low, deep, the words a rumble as he tugged the knot of the yukata free all the way, before dropping down to his knees and pinning Iruka against the door by his hips firmly. “Now, let me enjoy you the way I know you want me to.”

Iruka couldn’t come up with an answer to that.

*

That night, Iruka lay on his bed, as he stared at the ceiling shocked, a little unseeingly as Tenzou stared down at him, a sheen of sweat on his temple, his cock still buried deep into Iruka’s ass. 

“You do wonders for my ego, do you know that?” Tenzou whispered softly, leaning over as he brushed kiss over Iruka’s brow-bone.

“Wow,” Iruka breathed. “You’re a lot better than I imagined.”

“Did you touch yourself imagining me while you wrote all those scenes?” Tenzou prompted.

“Touched. Fucked myself on a stick-on dildo, the works. Yes,” Iruka admitted, breathless. “You’re bigger than the dildos I have. Thicker too.”

“Really doing wonders for my ego,” Tenzou laughed, pressing one last kiss to Iruka’s mouth before slowly drawing out of his body, leaving Iruka shuddering, as his legs slowly slump to the bed.

“Just your ego?” 

“Well, I’m open to discussing the finer plot points of your book with you, if you’re willing.” Tenzou propped himself up on an elbow. “Iyami was in love, wasn’t she?”

“She was,” Iruka murmured, closing his eyes. “She was…”

“I’d like to take you out to dinner, Iruka,” Tenzou said, soft, gentle. 

Iruka turned to look at Tenzou, saw no hint of someone making fun of his feelings, as his heart skipped a beat and his stomach swooped inwards at the sight of Tenzou looking at him like he was the only thing in the world that existed.

“I’d love that…”

  
FIN

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote parts of this years ago. There was enough content that I didn't want to just scrap it. Slapped pieces together and here it is. Better than deleting forever! Ahhhh~


End file.
